


The Problem With Pym

by MashpotatoeQueen5



Category: Next Avengers
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe- Ultron Wins, Avengers Family, Azari gives of ultimate 'id rather be reading' vibes, Being Lost, Big Brothers, Capture the Flag, Dealing with new powers kind of sucks, Gen, Giants, Just not the typical one, New York, New York City, Panic Attacks, Protective Azari T'Challa, Protective Francis Barton, Protective James Rogers, Protective Siblings, Protective Torunn Thordottir, Pym Particles, Pym Protection Program, Pym is such a good bean, Rain, Reading, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, This movie is so underappreciated it makes me sad, Ultron City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 02:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashpotatoeQueen5/pseuds/MashpotatoeQueen5
Summary: Pym is a ... troublesome child, to say the least. Not in the sense that he likes to cause trouble, but in the sense that trouble always seems to find him wherever he goes.Luckily, he had his older siblings there to help.(Basically, a whole bunch of fluffy one shots about the team taking care of Pym.)





	1. James

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I absolutely adore this movie and all the wonderful characters inside it, especially Pym. It makes me sad that there are so few fanfics about the family dynamics between these guys, and so I wrote one of my own!
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy! :D
> 
> This takes place when Pym is around 7 or 8 years old.

Pym was the youngest of all the children. It was glaringly obvious, both in his height and his mannerisms and his overall personality. If anyone were there to see, they would be able to tell in mere instants who was the youngest out of the group, and that someone was Pym.

He was brilliant though. Brilliant in with his mind and his mental capacities. Set him in front of a machine, he would figure it out its mechanisms and its secrets within minutes. Set him in front of a test, he would probably do better than your average high school professor. He would have excelled in a schooling system beyond any teacher's wildest imaginations, if only he had a chance.

But, you see, Pym was not in a school of any sorts. He was living in a dome in the middle of the Arctic along with his surrogate brothers and sister, and in such a place your academic excellence was not what made you the best or the greatest. Your powers, your prowess in battle, did.

And Pym was the youngest, and, being in the youngest, had yet to develop powers of any sort. And, being the youngest, was much, much smaller than any of his older siblings, who towered above him with ease.

"Pym! Duck!"

With a yell, Pym dropped to the ground and flattened himself against it, feeling the tell-tale swoosh of air as Torunn threw her sword at him. The weapon landed with a resounding thunk in the tree right behind him, burying itself to its hilt.

Pym shuddered.

"Hey! Watch where you throw that thing! Someone might get hurt, you know!"

He might have continued his tirade, but suddenly a gloved hand grabbed his and he was being whooshed away with alarming speed. He tried to keep up, but it was rather difficult with his shorter legs to get by without many, many stumbles.

"James, could you slow down a bit?"

The redhead glanced at him, eyes sparking with that strange twinkle that always got caught there whenever they were playing this kind of game, and placed his finger to his lips, a silent command for quiet.

Obediently, Pym snapped his jaw shut. James was always the best when it came to strategy games like Capture the Flag, and he was bound to know what to do. There was no way that Azari and Torunn could defeat them, not when they worked together! Who needed powers anyway? They had  _intellect_!

"Alright, here's the plan; I'm going to go down the right flank and distract them, and you're going to go down the left flank and get the flag. Then you go and run back to base, and don't stop for anything. Azari is probably guarding the flag, and he's fast, but you're small. Use it to your advantage, don't be afraid to hide or crawl through a small space where he can't follow if you think he's trailing you. Got it?"

Pym blinked, because that was a whole lot of words in a very short period of time, but then he nodded and grinned brilliantly. This was going to be  _so_  awesome!

"Yes! James, we're  _so_  gunna win this! I can't  _wait_  to see there faces-"

_"Shhhh!"_

He snapped his hands to his mouth at the hushing noise and then smiled sheepishly, repeating his last phrase in a much quieter voice.

"Oops, sorry. We're so gunna win this!"

And James gave him a smile that was more of a quirk of the lips and offered him a fist, which Pym eagerly accepted, and then disappeared into the foliage without a sound.

Sometimes, it felt as if James really  _did_  have superpowers.

Humming to himself, Pym headed in the opposite direction. He dashed to and fro from tree to tree, and pretended to be a spy from that one movie Tony had showed them the other day…

No  _wa_ y Azari would be able to find him! He was  _far_  too sneaky…

Just as the thought entered his mind, however, he realized that there was a shadow lurking over him. Frowning, he glanced upwards, only to jump to the side with a startled cry.

Azari dropped to the forest floor right where he had been standing but moments before and smirked at him, tattoos lighting up with blue energy.

_Not good! Not good, not good, DEFINITELY not good!_

Now, Pym knew how to fight, despite his apparent lack of powers. He did training like all the others, and he knew common self defense and attacks. However, Azari took all those classes as well, and was much, much more efficient at them. There was also the little fact that the prince could channel  _freaking electricity_.

And so Pym did the most sensible, honorable thing that he could do in such a dire situation as this:

He turned tail and  _ran_.

Azari blinked at the sudden loss of his quarry, but then a smile crept onto his face as he recognized the challenge. Capture the Flag had become a game of Cat and Mouse, and that was one game he just so happened to be  _very_  good at.

"Hey! Get back here!"

Pym dashed through the thick forest, wishing that he had superspeed as the ominous sound of running feet grew louder and louder behind him. He couldn't get caught! James was counting on him!

Hide! He needed to hide!

Pym glanced desperately around for a good hiding spot. He didn't have much time before Azari caught up with him and made him a prisoner. If he was going to vanish, he needed to do it  _now_.

_Where? Where? Where? THERE!_

Just ahead, there was a large tree swarmed in branches and foliage. If he could just reach it, he would have the perfect hiding spot.

With a grunt of effort, Pym took a flying leap. But he miscalculated, and his course was destined instead for the trunk of the tree. He didn't have time to crash! He needed to hide  _now_!

But his trajectory had no sudden miraculous change, and he stuck true to his doomed course. The tree hollow that had formed in the trunk grew closer and closer, and Pym desperately wished that he could suddenly shrink as to avoid the crash.

And to his surprise something  _happened_.

Time seemed to slow down, and tingling sensations traveled up and down his spine in a strange whirling pattern. Everything else suddenly seemed to get big while he himself felt as if someone was trying to squish him into a tiny glass bottle that was  _way_  too small.

He didn't hit the tree trunk, instead flying right through the hollow with room to spare.

_Huh. Weird._

He had no more time to think of it, however, because just then his head slammed into the back of the hollow,  _hard_ , and the world erupted in blinding painful white before everything went black... and Pym knew no more.

* * *

Hours later, Pym woke up to a dizzying headache and a great amount of confusion.

 _Where_ was  _he? And when did it get so dark?_

Stumbling, he managed to get himself into a standing position. He rested a hand on a wall for support, blearily blinking at it, when suddenly he jumped back.

His hand. His hand was  _glowing_.

Curious, the boy brought his fingers closer to his face, eyes wide at this miraculous discovery. He was  _glowing_. Like, actually  _glowing_! It didn't get any cooler than that!

But it did.

In his excitement, Pym hadn't realized there were new appendages attached to his back. He didn't even notice when said appendages started to flutter and flit, at least, not until he was rather high in the air…

And once he did realize just what was happening, he crashed back down to the ground, making his still pounding head protest violently and his stomach start to swirl in the most unsatisfactory way.

Slowly, as to not further aggravate his head, Pym glanced over his shoulder. He was unable to stop the excited squeal that escaped his lips when he spotted just what had enabled him to fly.

Wings. He had  _wings!_

Just wait until he told the others!

Eager to tell his family about the new development, Pym started off with wavering steps, only to stop quite suddenly in confusion.

Where was he, even? He certainly didn't remember  _this_  part of the dome…

His apprehension grew when he realized that the only source of light there was came from himself, and that otherwise there was complete darkness.

But wait, not complete darkness. There was some sort of large, open door up ahead where a faint light was shining through. The only problem was that the door was rather high in the air…

But he had wings now! He could handle it!

Pym bit his lip and focused, letting loose a cry of excitement when the appendages started to flutter and bring him into the air with only a single thought. When he arrived on the door's ledge with a stumbled landing, however, the beaming smile on his face quickly vanished. For the world outside was very, very, different from the one he remembered.

Everything… Everything was  _huge_.

Each leaf was a full sized double bed. Each flower was a towering tree. Every twig was as wide as a road, and every rock was easily the size of his bungalow. It was also far darker outside then he remembered it to be, making the suddenly ginormous objects ominous and vague.

Pym gulped, and looked this way and that, and realized that the view of a tiny person such as him and the view of a normal person was very, very different.

But then he realized that it would be an easy endeavor after all, because all he had to do was reach the ground and then transform back to his normal size. He'd then go out and find the others, show them his awesome new powers, and everyone would be super impressed. Easy Peasy, nothing to worry about.

It didn't turn out so simple.

He got to the ground okay, but once there everything went downhill.

He couldn't turn back.

He tried thinking about it and saying it out loud and waving his hands and imagining his normal size, but it  _didn't work_.

He was stuck.

Pym bit his lip, his powers no longer seeming like such a fun adventure, and fluttered once more into the air. His head really did hurt, and all the flying really was  _not_  helping, but what other choice did he have? He would have to navigate the forest while he was small and find Tony. Tony would fix it, he was sure of it.

He took off in a random direction, eyes peeled in search of a familiar landmark, but found none. Everything was alien with it's overly large size, and he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

And then it began to rain.

Great thick drops poured from the sky. At first, they had been easy to dodge, but then they became thicker and thicker and came down faster and faster and soon enough Pym was hit.

It was as if someone had poured an entire tank of water on him, and he was forced down under it's weight. The wetness did something to his wings, and his flight got slower and slower while the rain came down heavier and heavier, and soon enough raindrops were hitting him every other second.

And with every raindrop came a drop in his altitude and with every raindrop fluttering his wings became more and more difficult. And then one particularly large raindrop hit him straight on and he was falling, falling from the sky, into the mushy earth below.

He almost drowned in the mud, the squishy dirt pulling his small form deeper into its depths at an alarming rate. He managed to grab a twig, though, and pull himself out of harm's way.

By now, Pym was absolutely freezing and his headache was only getting worse. He was wet and miserable, and when he tried to flap his wings they only gave a vague shudder and nothing else. They looked wrinkled and unhealthy, and he quickly gave up trying to use them.

Exhausted, the small boy trudged on to a relatively dry space under a large mushroom like thing. He plopped down under the extended roof with a quiet thump and tiredly closed his eyes, his brain going into hyper awareness.

He'd try again, he decided, to become big. It would be easy, he assured himself. He just had to find the right way.

And he tried. He tried very hard. But nothing worked and his panic was starting to rise, because what if he was stuck small like this forever? What if James and Azari and Torunn and Tony never found him? What if the rising river in front of him got big enough to drag him away? What if he was drowned or eaten or smushed?

_What if he couldn't turn back?_

A shuddering sob escaped his throat, and he wanted to sleep and to be normal and to never have to worry about anything ever again. He had quite enough of this adventure, now, and was far past ready to go home.

It was then that something large and heavy shook the earth. Pym scrambled up, yelping, and hugged the base of the mushroom tight, clenching his eyes shut. Was it an earthquake? Was it a monster coming to eat him?

"Pym!? Pym, where are you!? Pym, please, if you can hear, answer me!"

Pym blinked; that wasn't a monster. The voice was louder than Pym was used to, and it almost felt as if it was moving at a slower rate, but he knew who it belonged to.

Tentatively, Pym stepped out from his mushroom, stumbling when a large raindrop hit him on the head. He looked up and gaped at the ginormous form of one James Rogers.

One James Rogers who was taking very, very large steps and was disappearing from view fast.

"Wa-Wait! James! James! I'm down h-here!"

His teeth were chattering, and he was cold and his head was hurting, and he was terrified that he would be small forever, but James was here and James would make everything better. James always had a plan.

"James! Please! I'm here! JAMES!"

Finally, the redhead seemed to have heard him. The older boy pulled to a stop and looked around, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Pym? You there?'

"HERE!"

His body protested, but Pym forced his muscles to move and jumped up and down, waving his arms around in an effort to get attention.

And then James spotted him, and Pym had never felt so relieved in his entire life.

The older boy dashed to his side, cursing under his breath when his hasty movements caused a wave of water to splash onto the tiny child, who came up spluttering and coughing. Gently, ever so gently, James reached out and swooped the kid up into the palm of his hand, marveling at his overall... tininess.

"Are you okay? We've been searching for hours! What happened to you? How'd you get so… small?"

He was expecting many possible answers, but he was not expecting for Pym to burst into tears.

"I d-don't know. I woke up and it was dark but I was glowing and I had wings and I was really, really small and it was super cool but now I can't turn b-back."

The small figure curled into a ball and placed his head in his knees, and despite his minuscule size James was able to tell that his shoulders were shaking.

James was not very good at comforting. It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, the sun was warm, and James Rogers could not comfort someone to save his life. But Pym was crying and obviously distressed, and he couldn't just  _ignore_  that and pretend it wasn't happening. The big brother inside of him refused.

And so he did his best.

Gently, he cupped a hand over Pym to provide a little bit of shelter from the rain and spoke in soft, soothing tones, trying to imitate Tony when the man used to comfort him after a night terror when he was younger.

"Hey, hey, Pym. Listen. It's going to be okay, yeah? I'm going to take you to my Bungalow, and were going to get you dry, and then we'll sleep. Tomorrow, we'll get Tony and he'll fix everything, yeah?"

And the younger boy nodded wearily, a hand coming up to scrub at his still wet eyes, and scooched further back against James' hand so that he could rest against the elder boy's fingers.

"Alright, let's go."

And James made his careful, careful way back to his bungalow, making extra sure that he didn't make any jarring movements of any sort. Pym fell asleep in the palm of his hand before they were even halfway there, and James wasn't sure if he should have been relieved or worried.

Once there, the redhead made a small nest-like bed out of a bunch of clean clothes and put Pym down inside of it. The younger boy murmured something and rolled over, but stayed asleep.

James slipped out the door and went to inform the others that he had located their missing family member before rushing to Torunn's bungalow and borrowing a few of the girl's old doll clothes that she never used anymore. From there, he dashed back to his own room and gently woke Pym up, helping the half asleep boy pull on the make do clothing- which wasn't a perfect fit but it was dry and that was the most important part- and tucked him back into his makeshift bed.

And later, Tony would scrutinize the large bump on the back of Pym's head and proclaim that the boy had a slight concussion, which was the reason he was unable to transform back to his normal size. And later, James would work tirelessly with Pym in order to master the technique of shrinking and growing and shrinking and growing again so the younger could get past his fear of being  _stuck_. And later, a very triumphant James and Pym would exit the forest with the enemy's flag in hand, cackling at the others' faces with glee.

But that would happen later, and in the quiet of James' bungalow no such things occurred. Instead, a small Pym slept the night away buried in the folds of his nest while his older brother sat besides him, keeping watch.

And perhaps young Pym learned a lesson that day. That what made you the best or the greatest was not so much your powers or your size or your prowess of battle, but the effort you are willing to reach out for others and the bonds that make the team strong. Not as individuals, but as a whole.


	2. Azari

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess whose BAAACCCKK!
> 
> Me!
> 
> Anyways, here's your next chapter! This one is focused on Azari- who was a joy to write, by the way- and Pym, and is set roughly a year or so after the last chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The day Pym first became... big was a long day for everyone, but it was longest of all for Azari.

From morning to night, Pym was complaining of feeling sore and achy. It was a strange occupation, to whine, for the youngest, for normally he was of the bright and chipper sort, never to be brought down long by pretty much anything. So, to hear the young boy mewl all day long was… odd, to say the least.

But perhaps the oddest thing of the entire situation was when Tony finally caved in to the child's constant whimpers of pain and took him to the medical bay, only to come back claiming that he could find no physical acclamation affecting him. Tony had then suggested Pym go to bed and sleep off whatever milady that he was plagued with, to which the child had miserably agreed.

Azari had thought that was the end of it.

It wasn't.

It was getting later in the evening, and Azari was in his Bungalow, quietly- and, more importantly, peacefully- reading when their was a loud, jarring knock on his door.

Azari frowned, curled a bit more into his chair, and went back to book. Someone else could deal with it.

But the knock came again, and again, and then it was a near constant pounding.

Azari frowned and stubbornly turned to another page of his book, acting as if he could make the nuisance go away through sheer force of will.

He initially thought he succeeded when the knocking stopped, and his grin was triumphant when he turned to yet another page of his book, believing that he would be left in peace.

He was soon proven wrong.

"Azari? A-Are you in there?"

That was Pym. Except, it wasn't Pym because Pym never sounded this upset or bothered. Ever. Pym's voice didn't crack. Pym didn't randomly show up at other people's bungalows in the middle of quiet time.

Pym never sounded uncertain.

"A-Azari?"

And so, with a reluctant sigh and a longing look at his book, Azari stood up and headed to the door. He threw it open and stared down at the younger with an annoyed expression painted across his face, only for it to melt upon seeing Pym's tear streaked face.

The younger boy was standing in his usual custom made yellow suit that Tony made for him upon the realization of the younger's shrinking abilities, which was created to shrink and grow with the youth. Except, instead of his usual bubbly, expressive posture that Azari was so used to seeing he had slightly curled into himself, hand wrapped around his stomach as if he was afraid that it might actually physically burst. Pym's face was screwed up in pain- tear tracks trailing down his cheeks- and his breathing was labored and scared and way too fast.

Needless to say, Azari felt the first tinges of panic creep up and down his spine. The electricity sparking up and making his tattoos glow before he forced it back down; now was not the time to play with his powers.

"Pym? Pym, what's going on? What's hurting? Pym!?"

The younger boy heaved in three deep breaths and grabbed on to the stair railings with his free hand for support. The boy clenched his eyes shut only to open them again, pain and panic and confusion and fear shining in the hazel orbs without any censorship.

"I d-don't know! Everything , and it's n-not stopping."

Pym grunted suddenly, hand slipping from the metal railing as he collapsed to the ground and thoroughly curled into himself, breaths shaky and fast and small whimpers escaping his mouth. Azari, panicked, dropped down besides them and placed a hand on a small shaking shoulder.

_What was he supposed to do?_

"Pym? Pym, c'mon. Pym, you need to  _breathe_. PYM!"

The boy had arched back, crying out in pain, and then collapsed, shuddering and coughing and making loud whimpers of pain.

He didn't respond to Azari's prodding after that.

The prince himself was in full out panic mode and his hands were fluttering nervously all over Pym's slumped form. Finally, he quickly stood up and rushed to hit the emergency button that was in every child's bungalow. Pym needed Tony. Tony would make things better. Tony would know what to do.

Azari sat impatiently by Pym for several minutes, nervously checking on the overly tensed up ball of pain next to him every few seconds. Pym had curled up into a fetal position and was not breathing properly even as his eyes remained tightly clenched shut.

The time dragged on, and still Tony was nowhere in sight. Azari bit his lip, glanced at Pym as the younger gave another whimper, and then made up his mind.

If Tony wasn't going to come to them, Azari would bring Pym to Tony.

Slowly, as to not disturb the boy, Azari stood and picked the younger up. It was a good thing that Pym was so small, otherwise he would have never managed it.

From there, he made his laborious way down the steps and across the way, following the path that would eventually take him to Tony's lab. It was weird though, it was almost as if Pym was getting heavier with every step. As if he was getting  _bigger_ with every step.

But that was impossible…  _right?_

Suddenly, Pym cried out and arched again, pushing himself out of Azari's arms and landing with a solid thunk on the earth below. Azari let out a whispered cursed and rushed forwards to check on him only to backpedal rapidly when Pym suddenly started to  _grow._

It was sudden and quick, and as much as Azari cared for his younger brother he also cared about not being squashed like a bug. Which was how he found himself turning tail and running down the path that led to Tony at full speed, the ominous noises of crashing and of Pym's oddly magnified sounds of pain following behind him.

And when at last the crashing stopped, Azari turned around to the sight of one giant Pym curled up in fetal position, the boy's stuttered breathing unnaturally loud.

The prince was even more lost as to what to do than before.

He took a deep breath. And another, and then made his way up to the giant Pym's face, where he placed a tentative hand on one oversized cheek.

"Pym?"

Nothing.

"Pym!?"

No response.

Azari frowned.

"PYM!"

This time, he shouted at the top of his lungs and added a little… shock to his words, blue tinged energy flowing down from his tattoos and striking the pale skin underneath his hands.

Pym's large brown eyes popped open and his large, large palm snapped up to swipe at whatever was bothering him. Azari could only watch as the massive hand swung forwards, his face filled with pained resignation, and when the hand made impact, only one thought filled his mind.

_I should have kept reading my book._

He flew several feet through the air, the whole world seeming to pass by in slow motion, only to smash- hard- into the trunk of a tree with a resounding thump, bright flares of pain traveling up and down his back and ending with a brilliant white flash that encompassed his vision.

And then everything went dark.

Several minutes later, Azari woke up to Pym looking down at him- and he would never get used to such a sight- with wide, worried, pain filled eyes and one oversized finger fluttering over him nervously.

"-zari? Azari? I am so, so sorry. Are you okay? Azari, please wake up. Azari!"

He groaned, shifted, stilled as his entire back flared with pain, and then slowly sat up. The sight on Pym's face was worth it, though, when the kid gave a huge smile of relief and a happy cry.

"You're okay! I was so worried and I- You are okay, right?"

Azari tried for a smile, although he obviously failed when Pym's joyful expression fell flat and the worried hovering returned.

"Oh, I did hurt you! I am so, so sorry. I, uh, what should I do? I don't know what to do! Azari!?"

He groaned, sat a little straighter despite the burning of his ribs, and looked up.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. What about you? Are you okay?"

The younger, though now significantly taller, boy grimaced.

"It hurts to move; it's like my muscles are trying to crawl out of my skin," Pym shuddered, "but other than that I think I'm okay."

And Azari, tired and sore and bruised as he may be, could not help but let loose a relieved sigh. Anything was better than listening to Pym whimper and cry out in pain, and he never wanted to hear a sound like that again for as long as he lived.

"Good… think you can turn back?"

Pym, who had previously been crouched, fell backwards until he was in a sitting position. The landing caused a shockwave that rumbled the earth below and made Azari fall back down, leaving him laying on the dirt and staring up at the darkening sky.

Pym didn't even notice, instead, the younger boy sighed and buried his face in his hands, mumbling something that Azari couldn't catch.

"What was that?"

Pym looked down at him again, this time his eyes were wide with fear and just on this side of panic.

"I don't think I want to… What if it hurts?"

Azari blinked a couple times, swallowed hard; the idea hadn't even occurred to him. But still, Pym was his responsibility and he was therefore charged in taking care of him, and that included comforting him, at least, until Tony showed up.

Where was Tony, anyways?

"Hey, I'm sure it will be fine. Tony should be here soon, and he'll know how to fix it."

Pym, upon hearing the news, brightened up. And so they sat- or, in Azari's case, laid down- in the dying rays of the sun, watching as the light faded from the sky.

Eventually, they heard the tell-tale sound of machinery and the sight of Tony riding a strange rover-like thing came into view. The man's face was pinched in panic and he was shouting out his questions before he even came into clear view.

Once he saw the scene in front of him, however, he came to an abrupt stop, staring up at the giant sized Pym with a look of dawning comprehension on his face.

The man, upon checking that the larger-than-usual boy was well, walked around Pym's giant foot and came to sit by Azari, who had yet to sit up.

"You alright?"

Azari nodded, eyes closed.

"You sure?"

He sighed, flopping an arm over his eyes.

"I think I bruised my ribs, but other than that I'm alright, Tony. It's just… It's been a long day."

And Tony nodded, as if he completely understood what Azari was talking about, and Azari gazed at the night sky above them, wishing he had his book and had never left his bungalow.

Eventually, with much pleading and the promise of ice cream, they managed to convince Pym to attempt shrinking back to his usual size. The boy took several deep breaths, clenched his eyes shut, and before Azari's very eyes shrunk down into his usual height. He was just about to smile and congratulate Pym on the successful transformation when the boy's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he promptly collapsed.

Luckily for Pym, Azari had fast reflexes and was able to catch him before he hit the ground. Still holding his precious cargo, he looked up at Tony, panicked, and asked, "What happened to him!?"

Tony knelt down besides him, pressing two fingers against Pym's neck to check his pulse and shaking his head.

"I'm not sure. It's probably just the overexertion from transforming, but I'll take him to the medbay and double check, just to make sure."

Azari glanced down at Pym's lax face, noting how very young he looked and the way the boy curled into him, as if seeking warmth.

"I'll carry him."

And so he did.


	3. Francis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :)
> 
> This takes place just after the events of the movie.

 

They were flying back to Ultron City- although Tony had been referring to it as New York- which was weird but not entirely dubious- to spread the news and to start cleaning up the once well-known metropolis. Francis was staring out the window, watching as the world speeded past, and was thinking.

Pym was talking to him about one thing or another, something that involved a whole lot of energized voice and exaggerated hand gestures, but Francis chose to let it become background noise instead of actually bothering to pay attention, only nodding or making quiet noises of agreement whenever it seemed appropriate.

He was pretty sure the younger boy hadn't noticed.

His mind was too active to pay attention either way, too shocked and dazed to even really put any effort into anything. He was too busy trying to convince it of the truth to talk about some random topic with Pym.

They had done it. They had defeated Ultron. Ultron was dead, and he was never coming back.

_They had done it._

His entire life, Francis had been training for this moment. For this day.

_They had defeated Ultron._

Since he could walk, his father had placed a bow in his hand and taught him, preparing him to defend himself and the rebels. Preparing him to fight. To lead. To shoot arrow after arrow and hit the target every time. He had been training to defeat Ultron once and for all… and now it was done. They had done it. It was finally, finally over.

_Ultron was dead, and he was never coming back._

And after so long…. After so many years of fighting and fighting and fighting… Francis wasn't sure he knew how to live without it anymore. Wasn't sure if he knew who  _Francis Barton_  was without it anymore.

His morose thoughts were interrupted when a small head suddenly thumped onto his shoulder, startling him badly. He almost _, almost_ , reacted with a violent swing that most likely would have ended with a concussion, but managed to prevent himself in time.

As it was, he simply tensed every muscle in his body and released a soft  _hmphing_  noise from his closed lips.

Because this was no attacker of enemy, it was just Pym.

Pym, who was solidly passed out on his shoulder, soft whispy noises escaping him every other breath.

Francis  _stared_ , uncomprehending.

His first thought was that Pym had fainted due to some injury or another. While they had been celebrating at the cave he had seemed well enough- bouncing around and chatting excitedly- but Francis had seen far too many people hide injuries only to collapse to the ground hours later to trust the observation,  _especially_  if said observation was on a person he hardly even knew.

And so, because Pym was a fellow teammate and it was important for him to be in a good condition for fighting, it was completely understandable when he spoke up to his companions about his concerns.

(It wasn't if he was worried or anything. No, not at all.)

"Ummm… Guys?"

The rest of the group looked over and, to Francis' surprise, broke out into smiles. The white haired boy blinked rapidly, bewildered, for he had been expecting concern or shock, not humor and snickering.

Tony- who had been quietly chatting with Vision up to that point- glanced over, his face falling into a fond, if not exasperated, gaze when he caught sight of Francis' situation.

"Finally passed out, eh?"

The robotic head- and that had  _totally_ been a fun occurrence, meeting a detached head- spoke up next, his voice clipped and distinctly British sounding.

"It would appear so, Tony."

Then they went back to talking.

Majorly confused now, Francis glanced at James in question. James seemed to be the kind of guy who would answer honestly and without any of that wishy washy stuff, and at that point he needed things to be as clear as they could get.

James, upon catching his eye, gave him one of his lopsided smiles, gesturing to the child curled up next to him with one red gloved hand.

"Whenever he gets big he uses up a lot of energy and afterwards he almost always passes out. After he sleeps a bit, he usually wakes up incredibly hungry, eats his own weight in food and then is back to normal. This always happens; don't worry about it. In all honesty, I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did…"

The teen trailed off with a shrug.

Azari, who had been sitting across the room, spoke up, a mixture of humor and sufferance toning his voice.

"The first time he got big he slept for almost three days, woke up, ate out our entire kitchen, claimed he was tired, and then promptly collapsed into his soup. Those… those were a  _long_  few days."

The others chuckled, as if Azari's sufferance was an inside joke that they had long laughed over, and again Francis felt the weird sense of being out of place that he got whenever the close-knit group he had joined reminisced or commented on events that had happened long before he ever knew them.

Torunn, who had been pulling back her long golden hair into a tight warrior's braid, suddenly laughed.

"Do you remember the time that young Pym decided to grow large just so that he may achieve victory in the race?"

And again they laughed, and again Francis felt awkward and put out, at least until Pym suddenly shifted and mumbled something, turning ever so slightly so that he was more fully resting on Francis' shoulder. While the younger boy moved and got comfortable again, the other teens stayed respectfully quiet and Francis remained painfully tense.

As soon as Pym had settled, however, they were back at it, apparently making it into a game of who could bring up the most ridiculous story of something Pym had done.

He didn't contribute or bother to ask questions, far too busy staying as still as possible.

Francis wasn't one for touchy-feely kind of things. In fact, he wasn't one for physical contact  _at all._  He didn't do hugs or embraces. He didn't do hair ruffles or whatever. No, his experience of touch started at a high five and ended somewhere around manly slaps on the back. That was it. That was his comfort zone.

And so… to have someone leaning on him, sleeping on him-  _A little kid, at that. A little kid who couldn't be more than… What? Eleven? Ten?_ \- was so far out of his range of expertise that it wasn't even funny. In fact, it could quite possibly be bordering the lines of terrifying.

Pym snuffled, burrowed into his shoulder a little closer, and settled once more, soft little breaths escaping his mouth in small puffs.

Francis sat stock still, hardly daring to breathe.

No one seemed to notice his tension.

Nobody, that is, except for James.

The ginger sat down besides him, blue eyes big and soft and warm and  _intense_  in that annoying way that meant he was about to say something important or inspiring or caring or something. The way they got when he was about to talk about feelings.

Francis didn't like talking about his feelings.

"You can transfer him over to me, ya know, if it really bothers you that much."

He was about to happily agree and start shifting the kid over, but something stopped him, made him hesitate.

Perhaps it was the way the kid yawned and curled up a little closer, looking so much like a small baby kitten that it wasn't even funny, or the way Pym's hair looked so ridiculously fluffy that it could almost pass as porcupine, or maybe even how Francis could see the bags under the kid's eyes, signifying just how tired he truly was and causing something warm and protective to curl up in Francis's chest.

Perhaps he was just a sappy idiot like everyone else in the group.

(He was finding it harder and harder seeing it as such a bad thing.)

Whatever it was, if found Francis shaking his head in a definite 'no'.

"Nah, it's fine; I can handle a little drool," he flashed a small smirk, "besides, it seems a shame to wake him up; he looks so comfy."

James smiled- a twinkle in his eyes suggesting that he knew that that was what Francis was going to say all along- and nodded, standing up with parting pat on Francis' shoulder and heading to the other two teens.

And later, when they arrived at the city, Francis would awkwardly prod the youth until his eyes cracked open. He would then tell him that they had arrived and help him to his feet.

And Pym would blink a few times blearily up at him before breaking out into a blinding smile, wrapping his skinny little arms around Francis' waist and giving him a quick hug.

And then he would be gone, dashing out of the jet with a parting, " _Thanks for letting me use you as a pillow!_ " and muffled laughter.

And Francis wasn't sure what this little group he had stumbled upon was or just how it worked. Wasn't sure what was going to happen in the future or just how one could live without a constant battle plaguing their thoughts. Wasn't even sure just who he was, just how he fit, in this whole entire mess…

But he was looking forward to finding out, and seeing Pym's brilliant smile and hearing Torunn's beautiful laugh, watching as Azari and James played Rock Paper Scissors Shoot in order to determine just who would be the one to tell Pym that there was no food, seeing his  _family_ , together and whole and in high spirits, well… something told him that, whatever it was, it was going to be good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go! How did you like it? Let me know! :)
> 
> (Just in case anyone cares, I absolutely adored writing sleeping Pym...)
> 
> Until next time! :)
> 
> -Mashpotatoe Queen


	4. Torunn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! LASSSST CHAPTERRR! :D :D :D :D
> 
> Sorry for the delay by the way! :)
> 
> First things first: THIS CHAPTER IS A BIT MORE BLOODY THAN THE OTHERS! It involves some mildly described torture-like scenes and kidnapping, and if this might trigger you in ANY WAY, please son't read; I don't want to hurt anyone and I would hate if my writing created harm.
> 
> Now that that is done; I hope you all enjoy! :)
> 
> This chapter takes place a few months or so after the events of the movie.

Pym cackled as he shot yet another energy blast at the masked men who were attempting to rob the newly founded government building; the adversaries didn't stand a chance.

After the fall of Ultron, things had slowly built themselves back up again until life resembled a normal functioning society once more. Things weren't perfect- there were still a lot of riots and confusion and villains popping up now that Ultron was no longer there to stand in their way- but it was certainly getting better.

And with the Avengers there to keep things on the right track, nothing could go wrong!

At least, that's what Pym thought.

And so there he was, blasting away at bad guy after bad guy, occasionally zipping over to James to ask for new orders or flying over the battlefield in order to deliver a message to another member of the group. They had comms, but the thugs had set up an EMP that blocked all communication signals, rendering them useless. Pym probably could have fixed them, but that would take too much time and would require someone to guard him while he worked, which wasn't ideal.

And so they stuck with Pym flying around and delivering orders and battle plans.

It was on one of these runs where the trouble started.

He had been zipping across the field, large brown eyes searching for Hawkeye in order to tell him his position needed to switch over a few buildings, when something large and heavy slammed into him and made him crash into a wall.

He hissed in pain as the world swerved in and out of focus and his head began to hammer in protest. He looked up, his blurry vision making out three very,  _very_  large figures with a whole lot of gadgets that most certainly did not look fun.

Pym tried for a smile.

"He, he; you wouldn't happen to be good guys in disguise, would you?"

A small beam of red light shot out of one of the thug's gun and Pym was forced to dive to the side, almost throwing up when the sudden movement made his head spin in dizzying, painful ways.

In the spot where he was just mere moments before was a burnt spot.

Pym gulped.

"Ah… didn't think so. But thanks anyways for the confirmation."

Another shot had him zooming unsteadily into the air and flying over the men's head, hardly managing to dodge a strange glowing fiber green net that was sent his way soon after.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, and Pym had a feeling that the situation was developing into more than just an armed robbery; these guys were far too prepared.

Dizzy and with his head pounding, Pym glanced around the battlefield, searching for one of his companions. The world was wavering in and out of focus again, and the different colors were mingling into a strange swirling rainbow… perhaps he had hit his head harder than he thought.

Finally, he spotted Torunn in the distance, but it was too late _, too late_ , and something hit his side  _hard_  and he gasped, crying out in pain and small hands rushing to grab at the spot where he had been hit. He blinked blearily when his hands came away red…

Funny, Pym had never bled before…

Someone was shouting his name, but their voice was far away… He looked up anyways, realizing that Torunn was flying over to him at break neck speeds and that he should probably go and see what she needed, but everything was so hazy and blurred and Pym wasn't so sure that moving was the best idea…

And then something green slammed into him-  _The net,_  he realized- and was wrapping around him, thousands of shocks jolting his body and causing Pym to yell out in pain, back arching as the electricity traveled through his unwilling veins. It override his systems, shorted out his brain, and he should have really done something about it but the pain… the pain kept him frozen, unable to move or think because it was  _burning, burning, burnin_ g and the smell of charred flesh was attacking his nose and the electricity just kept  _pumping, pumping, pumping_ into him.

_Pym!_

Was someone calling his name? It sounded like someone was calling his name. He should really respond… but he couldn't. He couldn't; he was falling, falling from the sky, dragged down by the heavy net that was still shocking him.  _Over and over and over._  He wanted to get out!  _Why couldn't he get out?_

Something in his throat choked, and his vision was fading, surrendering to the encroaching darkness.

And then he knew more.

And Torunn could only watch as he little brother fell and landed in the waiting black leather glove of one of the thugs. Could only stare in horror as her little brother was dropped unceremoniously into a jar- the blasted net still on him- and shoved into a man's belt with little regard. Could only glare as the men ran away, Pym scarily lax as he was thrown to and throw with the motions.

By the time she arrived at the scene, breathing hard because of the speed of her flight, the men were already gone and Pym was nowhere to be found.

Torunn yelled in frustration, swinging her sword downwards in anger and accidentally chopping a garbage bin in half. She glared at the pieces accusingly, as if they were at fault for the loss of her younger brother, and pretended she didn't notice the tears on her face.

Pym was gone, and it was her fault. If only she had been a little faster, a little stronger…

She cursed, loudly, and threw herself back into the fro. She had to find James; James would have a plan. James would know what to do.

To her surprise, however, by the time she exited the alleyway the goons were already retreating. They were running away, hopping into vans and dragging along injured teammates. At first, she was glad- let them run like the cowards they were, let them know the power of the Avengers and fear it as they scurried back into their holes- but then it hit he that the thugs were the only ones to have any knowledge where Pym might be, and that if they escaped they would take that knowledge with them.

That wasn't acceptable.

"Oh no you don't," she growled, throwing her sword at breakneck speeds and smirking in grim satisfaction as the hilt slammed into the back of a thug's head and knocked him instantly unconscious.

She swooped down, grabbed the man, and rushed back into the air, scanning the battlefield for James.

 _Not there, nor there, not there… Where_ are  _you, James? Not there, not there, not there… There!_

She zoomed towards the red-headed boy dropping her burden and punching the gang leader that he had been fighting unconscious. James caught his shield and swung it over so that it attached to his back, turning so that he faced her, questions already forming on his tongue.

Torunn cut him off before he even had a chance.

"They took Pym. Everyone's escaped except for these two," she glared at the two fallen thugs, "I don't know where they went."

James stared at her for a few seconds before he exploded, "WHAT!? They took Pym! How!?"

She flinched.

James must have noticed because he clenched his eyes shut for a few seconds, breathing deeply through his nose before opening them.

"Never- never mind. It doesn't matter. Get Azari and Hawkeye for me, will you? We need to make a plan."

Torunn quickly did what she was told, guilt gnawing at her from the inside out. Once they were all gathered, she explained what had happened, bouncing on her toes the entire time; they were talking too much. Pym was in  _danger_ and it was all her fault and they had to  _stop_  doing something and  _start_ taking action!

It was then they heard the thugs start to wake up. Instantly, they turned on their heels and towered over them; the bad guys had chosen the wrong kid to kidnap.

The thugs woke up to four very, _very_  angry and protective older siblings who were willing to give an entire world of pain to get the information they needed.

It was not a fun day for those thugs. Not a fun day at all.

* * *

Pym woke up to a every muscles of his body protesting his every movement.

He groaned, curled a little bit tighter into himself, and reached one sore hand out in an attempt to find his missing pillow.

Except he couldn't find it. Still keeping his eyes close- far too tired and miserable to even bother opening them- he stretched a little farther but to no avail.

He frowned, for it was a very odd indeed that his pillow should escape him so thoroughly, especially when he was sore and hurting like this; normally the others would have long ago tucked him into bed and given him so many pillows and duvets that he would be drowning in them.

It was then he realized that he was not in his bed. That there were no duvets or pillows because he was not at home, safe and sound and far out of reach from any harm.

His eyes opened with a snap and he was sitting up before he even fully registered what he was doing.

_Where was he? What was going on? Why did his stomach hurt so much? Where were the others? Were they okay? Why was he alone? What happened?_

But then he was lying back down and curling up again because it was  _too bright, too bright_ , and his head hurt and his body ached and his side  _burned_  and he didn't like this very much,  _at all_.

Slowly, he cracked his eyes open again. He needed to find out what was going on, then he would figure out what had happened to him; if he was in the middle of a battle, he needed to get up and get going, or at least find one of the others.

He was not in the middle of a battle.

In fact, it appeared as if he was in  _a jar_.

(At first he was impressed that whoever had taken him could find a jar large enough to fit an 11-year-old kid, but then he realized that the idea was stupid because he was actually in his smaller form, not his usual form.)

He blinked and carefully pulled himself into a sitting position, looked up and spotted the small holes in the jar lid, looked to the side and spotted a video camera, and then to the  _far_  too bright lamp to his left. He was in a jar, in an unfamiliar location, and someone was videotaping him.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh at the irony he was a bug-sized hero and he was now trapped in a jar like a little kid would trap an insect if they wanted to keep it as a pet, or glare because of the lack of creativity, because he was a bug-sized hero and he was now trapped in a jar like a little kid would trap an insect if they wanted to keep it as a pet.

He chose to glare.

(And maybe a pout a bit, but that wasn't important.)

After he finished glaring, he slowly- carefully- tried to stand up, using the glass sides of the jar to keep himself upright. The world was wavering in and out and his stomach rolled unpleasantly at the motion- not to mention the fact that his side stung like crazy- but he grit his teeth and kept at it, letting a lose a little cheer of triumph when he succeeded.

The next part was simple; he would simply grow to his usual size- shattering the glass as he did so- escape the unknown location using his  _amazing_  navigating and sneaking abilities- which really weren't that amazing- find a way- currently unknown- to contact his siblings, wait for his pickup, and all the while never once get recaptured.

Simple.

But it turned out to not be that simple, for just as he was about to put his master plan- very detailed and well thought out master plan- into action, two large men dressed in orange lab suits and toting along a scary looking gas canister entered the room.

He blinked up at them, confused, because no one was supposed to enter until  _after_ he finished escaping his confines, but he would not have long to think after that…

A funnel-like thing was attached to the top of his jar, and Pym was too busy trying to figure out why anyone would do such a thing to realize that the funnel was connected to the scary gas canister.

At least, not until green smoke started to filter through the holes and into the jar.

He tried to hold his breath, he really did try, but eventually he had to breathe, inhaling the green substance as he gulped in desperate gasps of air.

And then he was coughing, choking as his body tried to repel the gas. He just kept coughing and coughing, deep grating coughs that pulled at his throat. Because there  _was no air_  and he felt the first grips of panic reach out and grab him.

Slowly, he slumped down against the glass- which he had been pounding against in his fruitless attempts for escape- still coughing. The world was spinning now, and his eyelids were feeling awfully heavy. He didn't like this. He didn't like it _at all_. His eyes were stinging and his throat was sore and his ears felt as if they were filled with cotton. It was like he was underwater, everything muffled and far away, and the world was spinning and spinning and spinning in a multitude of colors, even though his eyes were closed…

And then something was grabbing him-  _too tight, too tight_ \- around the middle and he was pulled out of the smog of green smoke, thrown down on a cold, silver surface that he didn't particularly like... but that was something he would worry about later because he could finally,  _finally_ breathe.

He rolled over so that he was on all fours, coughing harshly and eyes tightly clenched shut. One gulp of air, and then another. And another and another, every breath a precious gift he would never take advantage of again.

But despite the wonderful air, something was… off. His brain was hazy.  _Or was it his thoughts? Which was right? He didn't knooow._

He tried to stand up, but he couldn't, only stumbling and falling back down again. His head didn't like it very much.

Poor head.

The world was tinged yellow, which was strange because Pym was almost sure it used to be green…

_What was happening to him?_

And then there were people leaning over him, and they were too big, too big, and Pym would really like to get big again too so that he didn't feel so small…

But he couldn't.  _He couldn't_. Whenever he tried, the thoughts would slip out of his grasp and his body would ache and strain but never  _do_  anything.

He was  _stuck_. And if there was one thing he didn't like, it was being stuck.

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. Why couldn't he get big? What was  _wrong_ with him? What if he was stuck  _forever_?

He needed to find James. James or Torunn or Hawkeye or Azari. They would know what to do. They knew  _everything_.

He tried to stand again, this time to find his friends, but his legs gave up halfway through once more, leaving him on the ground and his head not liking him again.

He registered the sound of laughing, and he looked up to see the men who had put him there laughing. They were laughing at him, and he didn't like it. They were being  _mean_. What had Pym ever done to  _them_?

He opened his mouth to tell him just what he thought about them, but he threw up instead.

Staring down at his own bile, he couldn't help but think:  _Huh, that was unexpected._

Then he threw up again.

Once he was done puking, he blearily looked up at the men once more. They were still laughing. Couldn't they tell that Pym was sick, why weren't they helping him?

He wanted his family. He didn't want to be here on the cold steel surface anymore. He wanted to go  _home_.

A few tears slipped out, and he swiped at them hastily; he had a pounding headache as it was, no need to add crying to the mix and make it worse.

Someone was picking him up again, except this time an entire fist was wrapped around his chest and it was crushing his delicate wings, making them wrinkled and shriveled and it  _hurt_. The man was squeezing too tight, and he couldn't breathe again and he wanted it to stop  _right now_.

It didn't stop.

Desperately, he pushed against the curled fingers, but they just kept squeezing and squeezing and his vision was blurring and the world was fading into black once more…

And then he was being unceremoniously dropped again, and he was coughing and choking and trying to breathe again, and he threw up again- except this time there was nothing really  _to_  throw up, and so he was just dry heaving- and the men were laughing at him  _again_ …

(And he really, really wanted to go home. When were the others going to show up?)

But then he was being tied down, and he really, _really_  did not like it. He struggled, tried to blast at the fingers maneuvering him, but again his thoughts were too hazy and vague to put any focus into the shots, and so they didn't work.

And then they were poking at him, with needles and scalpels and sharp things he wanted to go away because it hurt,  _it hurt, and it needed to stop because it hurt so much, please make it stop, please…_

_It didn't stop._

Eventually, exhausted from crying and shouting and something else entirely which was probably important but Pym couldn't put his finger on so it didn't matter, he went quiet, staring dazedly at the new coating of red liquid that had been splattered on his hand and trying to pretend that it wasn't his own blood.

And eventually, after what felt like hours and hours of torment, he was let loose from his bonds and picked up again. His head lolled, limp, against the man's fingers, and his eyes were half closed. The world passed by in a dizzy daze of colors and spinning lights, and soon enough he was being dropped back into his jar, sliding unceremoniously down the sides until he reached the bottom.

A trail of blood was left behind.

The men who had been… operating on him walked out, chattering and laughing as if no monstrous deed had occurred, turning the lights off behind them, leaving Pym alone in the darkness.

He coughed weakly, slowly slipping a hand around his bleeding stomach and sitting up, scooching over to a clean area before lying back down again, carefully curling into himself until he reached a fetal position once more.

He blinked tiredly, trying to stay awake. He remembered James talking to him in his  _I'm-The-Leader-And-I'm-Saying-Something-Important_ voice, telling him that if Pym was ever losing blood it was essential he didn't fall asleep. He couldn't remember why, but he remembered James' serious, concerned eyes when he had said, "Rule number one, Pym: don't fall asleep,  _don't fall asleep_."

But he was so, so tired, and everything hurt and he would give most anything to escape the world of reality for a while. To fall into the safety and warmth of the land of dreams and never wake up.

He was so,  _so_  tired.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his family.

He wanted all the pain to  _stop_.

An despite his valiant efforts, his eyes eventually closed, his heartbeat slowing and his breathing easing out…

He woke up to light seeping through his eyelids and someone desperately calling his name.

" _-ym! Pym! C'mon, you have to wake up. Please wake up! PYM!"_

At first, he feared that it was the men again, back to choke him with green glass and fill him with pain, and he only curled into a tighter ball, clenching his eyes shut as if through willpower alone he could make them go away.

But then he realized that he knew the voice. That the voice was one of a girl's, not one of a man's, and hope crept into his heart.

Blearily, wearily, and with far more effort than he was used to, he opened his eyes.

"...Torunn?"

There was silence for a moment, and he feared that he had simply imagined the voice. That it was an illusion created through fever and blood loss, but then it was back, praising the gods and sounding relieved and tearful.

"Oh, thank the gods you're alright. Here, here, um… Why don't you stand up and fly out? I've removed the lid for you, so it should be easy."

Pym slowly sat up, breath clenching painfully with every movement, and looked up into Torunn's worried blue eyes.

"I- I don't think I can."

The blue orbs widened further in concern.

"What? You don't think you can fly?"

Pym bit his lip.

"Y-yeah. They crushed my wings," he gave them a flap to prove it, both disappointed and resigned when the damaged appendages only gave a meager twitch, "but T-Torunn?"

The girl was leaning closer now, brow furrowed.

"I- I don't think I can stand, either."

He felt sort of pathetic saying it, but it was the truth. He was so, so tired, and even the simple act of  _sitting up_  had taken almost all his energy and willpower. And it had hurt. A lot.

The girl was growling under her breath now, and she was angry, he could tell. But then she was gently tilting the jar and slipping her hand in, carefully scooping him up into the calloused palm.

He blinked up at her, a bit dizzy from the motion, and she smiled at him, but the effort was ruined by the worry and anger swirling in her eyes.

He tried to smile back anyways.

She floated into the air and started to fly away, slower than her normal pace and close to the ceiling, where they would be more easily missed. In the distance, there was the sounds of fighting and yelling and the grunts and clangs of battle; the Avengers had arrived and were more than willing to enact their revenge.

Torunn had a hand to her ear, speaking quickly to the others even as she flew through hall after hall.

"I have attained Pym. He's hurt, and I think he's still bleeding. I think they drugged him; it looked like they were trying to figure out where he got his powers... Yes, Hawkeye, I am heading to the rendezvous point. Alright, I shall meet you there…"

The words faded into background noise, and before he knew it, he was asleep…

He woke up in his own bed, his chest wrapped tightly in bandages and feeling oddly numb. His head felt like it was formed by purely cotton balls, and his body felt sluggish and slow.

But it was warm under his blankets and he had his pillow and he was very, very tired and so, instead of trying to wake up, he curled into himself and tried to fall into a deeper sleep once more.

But as he moved his leg he realized that there was, in fact, something heavy on top of it, holding it in place. He couldn't remember why, but suddenly the idea of being caught, being unable to move his limbs, was the most terrifying idea in history and he was jerking his leg out in a solid kick before he even knew what he was doing.

His kick landed true, solidly smacking Hawkeye in the nose.

The older boy let out a cry of pain and fell back in surprise from where he had been sleeping, his head rested in his arms on Pym's bed. The noise woke the others up, leaving Pym surrounded by his older brothers and sister, all staring down at him with big, concerned eyes, even Hawkeye, whose nose was starting to bleed.

He blinked blearily up at them, because he was quite sure that before he was in a very different, very scary situation, but then he smiled a bit, because he wasn't sure what they were expecting but they all obviously were and he could at least try and give it to them.

He was relieved when they all positively  _beamed_ back.

But his eyelids were heavy still and his brain continued to feel like it was stuffed with cotton, and so he quietly curled back under his covers, managing to mutter a mumbled apology to Hawkeye while he was at it.

He was safe now. His family was here, and everything would be alright...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> And there we have it, folks! The Problem with Pym is officially OVER, although I am planning on making a second installment focusing on Torunn, and then all the others... :)
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story. I hope each and every one of you were able to gleam some joy from my work; I know writing it was fun; it has been an utter joy to explore these characters and their interactions with each other!
> 
> And so I finish with a smile and a wave, and a hope to see you all again soon! :D
> 
> \- The Mashpotatoe Queen


End file.
